Love at first sight? Yeah, right
by ZenSational
Summary: Maximum Ride a vet from Boston, but with wings on her back and amazing powers she's definitely not normal. What happens when she finds a winged boy in black on her front lawn with a few too many gunshot wounds? Save him of course. Full summary inside. FAX
1. Chapter 1

Summary- Maximum Ride, your typical vet in Boston, but with a fourteen foot pair of wings on her back and some crazy powers she's everything but normal. Thinking she's the only Avian-American, what will she think when a certain dark mysterious guy is found on her front lawn with broken onyx wings sprouting from his muscular back and a few to many gunshot wounds?

Chapter 1~

Max POV~

Have you ever had that horrible feeling where you're sleeping so peacefully (for ONCE in a long time) and you wake up to- BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP? Yeah, me too. Every god damn morning.

Anyways I should probably introduce myself, I'm Max. I'm around 5'10, twenty-one, hair a mix of burnet/blonde/ and red, deep chocolate eyes, and a constant tan. Oh and did I mention I have a fourteen foot wingspan of pure glorious wings on my back? No? Oh well, now you know. I won't bore you with how I got them because honestly I don't even know. I woke up in the hospital at 5 years old with wings and no memories. So far nobody knows how I got them or where. But anyways back on topic, I work at the local animal hospital, Paws and Claws Animal Clinic and Hospital, as of last month I beat Dylan, my colleague and nemesis, at the vote for Head Vet. Making me more amazing than I already was.

As you already figured out I'm just waking up…and currently even the Devil is scared. Just saying, I'm NOT a morning person. As I take a shower throw on some black scrubs and shove four pieces of Nutella (if you don't like this, you're crazy.) coated toast in my mouth, I read off my lists of customers I have today.

-Julie Hennings: Male Feline, 5 years of age, Feline leukemia.

-Mary Dwight: Female Dog, 2 years of age, two week birth check-up.

-Henry Secor: Male Dog, 4 years of age, massive leg tumor.

-James Mark: Female Feline, 6 months, spaying.

-Anne Luis: Male Rabbit, 1 year old, broken hind leg.

Well, could be worse I guess. One day I had 10 clients. Maybe I have so little because I have a half day. Finally a day I can take a break… HOLY CRAP I'M GONNA BE LATE!

~*Time Skip till last client*~

Finally, I'm almost done for the day. Just one more client then I can go home eat and watch T.V. haha how typical. I'm so going to get fat-just then Ms. Luis comes in with her rabbit for me to X-ray and cast his sadly, broken hind leg. I feel my throat is raspy; I need water, hopeful I'm not catching a cold.

"Hello Ms. Luis, how has your day been so far?" I ask the elderly lady, TRYING to sound healthy. "Oh just fine my dear, but poor Patches I don't think is having a fine day. My 10 year old grandson was holding him and he decided to jump down onto the floor. Silly rabbit." _Maybe the kid should have been sitting down?_

"Here, lets have a look shall we? Yes it looks like it's broken. I'll have to go take an X-ray to check the damage and see if anything needs to be re-aligned, then we can cast it." She nods her head and pets the rabbit goodbye as I take him to the X-ray room.

"It looks like a clean break so thankfully I don't need to re-align anything since it's rather painful." I tell Ms. Luis about the break and I get to work on casting up the leg. Finally I'm done and sending the old woman and her rabbit out to the counter in the lobby/waiting room to get their bill and pain meds.

I go to say goodbye to my coworkers, then finally get my things ready so I can go home. As I'm driving I sing along to some random song on the radio, I think Aerosmith, I stop at Taco Bell to grab a crunch-wrap supreme, 10 tacos, and a huge mountain dew. Just so I can get fatter of course. Which I'll have you know never happens, thanks to my amazing high birdy metabolism, I'm always fit and light because of my hollow bones.

Just as I'm turning onto my street I see something on my front lawn….and it slightly resembles a hot guy in black jeans, shaggy black hair, and dark onyx wings sprouting from his muscular back. No, that can't be…it MUST be a ripped sweater or something…I mean…I'm the only one….right?

Sadly he looked rather….dead. I mean his wings (or sweater…?) were definitely broken and I think I see 3 gunshot holes in his stomach/chest. Did I mention he was shirtless? "**MAX, GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER. HE'S DYING. YOU'RE A VET. GO HELP!" **The voice in my head commanded. _"Nice to hear from you too, Voice. And I'm really sorry to burst your bubble. But I'm pretty sure he's definitely dead…." _I replied back. No reply? Nice, Voice. Nice.

And just so you know. I AM NOT CRAZY. I may have a voice in my head but it's been there since I woke up in the hospital, my very first and last memory. Since then he/she has been pretty helpful, except for when it's annoying and bossy. And I am NOT good with bossy. But really, back on topic. There's a possibly, still save-able guy on my lawn!

Well, I'd better go see if I can save the guy.

**A/N: Did I make Max to heartless? I'm thinking I did. But I'm to lazy to change it, haha. This isn't technically my first FanFic since I've written tons just never publish it. Then again I'm lazy. I really appreciate any compliments, flames, complaints, or any character/plotline views or ideas. Later on I will have the other flock members join the story though I'm not sure if they'll have wings or not. **

**And was this chapter to short? Do you want longer? Actually I already know you want longer. I mean who doesn't? I also will be spending probably around $10 on a Word App for my iPhone so I can on the go (I have a VERY busy life) update weekly. So don't complain about typos and shit. That's out of my control. Actually it's not but still. **

**CHAPTER LENGTH WILL VERY.**

~Pye


	2. Chapter 2

Summary- Maximum Ride, your typical vet in Boston, but with a fourteen foot pair of wings on her back and some crazy powers she's everything but normal. Thinking she's the only Avian-American, what will she think when a certain dark mysterious guy is found on her front lawn with broken onyx wings sprouting from his muscular back and a few to many gunshot wounds?

Chapter 2~

Max POV~

Well it turns out he does have wings—onyx, gorgeous, completely silky, wings. And a tattoo on his wrist that says 'Ex. 1764093'. Weird if you ask me. And you're probably wondering why I'm not freaking out right now about his wings. Well I sorta was for the three hours I was cleaning him up, which is a ton harder than it sounds.

Turns out he has four gunshot wounds, thankfully the bullets didn't hit any organs or something. His wings seem severally broken which makes me wonder how he got to my house…_he doesn't seem like the type to walk… _I was hyperventilating the ENTIRE three hours about the wings, I'm both happy and completely shocked. Maybe he can tell me where I came from! That is until he wakes up... he has a slight concussion, bruised and bloodied knuckles, no shoes, tons of bruises, and a hell of a lot of scars. If I didn't know better I'd think he actually came from Hell.

It's been two hours since I cleaned and bandaged him up and he's still out like he ran a 50 mile marathon WITHOUT the birdy energy. And it seems like he doesn't plan on waking up anytime soon. Which honestly sucks for me because I'm pretty much bursting at the seams with questions! He can't wake up any sooner can he?

I wonder what his name is? Do you like he came to my house because he knew I had wings? Will he be nice or a snobby ass? Where did he come from? Did he get in a big gang fight? Is he gonna kill me? WAY TO MANY QUESTIONS. MY BRAIN IS GOING TO EXPLODE.

So here I am, sitting next to the guest bed watching him sleep and waiting for him to at least move, make some sort of noise, or wake up. Hopefully he doesn't freak out to much when he wakes up. I don't want him running off.

And it also seems like I'm sick, I've been eating soup and cold medicine all day. But my throat is still killing me. I'm actually wondering if I can talk at all since I haven't said anything since work. That would be just my luck he wakes up and I can't even tell him where he is and my name.

~*Time Skip 1 hour*~

Just as I'm getting up to go get some water for my throat I hear a quiet painful moan coming from the not-so-silent-now mass of black hair, onyx wings, and fluffy blankets. Automatically I start freaking out all over again, I can barely breathe when he slowly opens his eyes and takes in his surrounding, pale lavender walls, dark chestnut dresser with an antique lamp lightly illuminating the dark room, a velvety recliner in the corner with a few pillows and blankets nestled in the middle—proof that someone was sitting and watching him sleep, and the dark oatmeal fluffy rug laying in the middle of the hardwood flooring which his bed is resting on. He seems suddenly alert as if someone has caught him and is holding him captive.

I figure I should speak up and make myself know, I'm slightly surprised he didn't notice me standing in the doorway behind him, "Hey, you don't need to freak out. You showed up on my lawn all bloody and beat up. So I figured I'd patch you up instead of letting you die out there." No answer. So I figured he was still tired and didn't feel like talking and started leaving the room, until he suddenly sat up trying to get out of bed. Oh, great. I had to get an impatient patient that doesn't want to wait and fully heal before he starts walking, running, and flying. This'll be fun.

Rushing to his side and trying to get him back in bed was not easy, I'll tell you, he sure puts up a fight. Annoyed on my end and in complete pain on his I finally got him back under the covers. He still hasn't talked so hopefully he's not mute. That would be hard to deal with along with his stubbornness.

Simply telling him I'll bring him some water I go to leave the room and I hear a very silent almost inaudible "Thank you." "No problem." I calmly reply. Even though thoughts are rushing through my head, thank god he talks. Getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with cold water I think of what I'll order for food tonight. Since my cooking is so bad it's deadly. I can't even make cereal without it burning, which I didn't think was possible till a week ago when I was to lazy to stop at the local bakery for breakfast.

Walking back into the room at silent as possible I think pizza sounds good. I'll make sure its good with the guest first before I order.

Handing him his water I take a seat in the recliner and wait till he's done drinking before I start the simple questioning. That I hope he answers. And isn't a stubborn ass about. Finally done I scrap up the courage and ask "Does pizza sound good for dinner? My cooking sucks so that's one of our options. Or Chinese. You can pick." After a few minutes he says "Pizza sounds good. I like pepperoni." "Cool. I'll go call. When I come back is it okay if I ask you a few questions?" again I wait a few minutes, he replies a simple but fast like it took a ton of effort to say "Sure." I guess he doesn't talk much.

Calling the pizza place wasn't hard. Since I order pizza there at least once a week. I order two large pepperoni, pineapple, and jalapeño for me. And two large pepperoni for him.

The guy, Matt, on the other line says it'll be around $26.78 and he'll have it here in about 30 minutes. Good cause I'm pretty sure both me and Mr. Tall Dark and Silent are starving.

I figure I can get the few questions I have over with during the 30 minutes I head back to the guest room. Let the questions and answers begin.

**A/N: Okay. So this is pretty much a filler that totally sucked. I was hoping to have this up earlier today. But I've been really busy I went to a dog show all day yesterday with my friend and we ended up coming home to her severally sick miniature horse. So I was up till 2AM saving it's life. It was pretty hard core. Then I can barely walk cause my feet hurt so bad from all the walking plus my shoulder is killing me cause I like to wrestle with my guy friend. I'm an idiot. Anyways, I hope it's not that bad. I feel like I over describe stuff like Tolken does. Is that bad? Should I stop? **

**UPDATES EVERY MONDAY.**

Hey, if you read this **REVIEW**. With your ideas, complaints, flames, encouragement, and whatever else you feel like saying!

**~Pye**


	3. Chapter 3

Summary- Maximum Ride, your typical vet in Boston, but with a fourteen foot pair of wings on her back and some crazy powers she's everything but normal. Thinking she's the only Avian-American, what will she think when a certain dark mysterious guy is found on her front lawn with broken onyx wings sprouting from his muscular back and a few to many gunshot wounds?

Chapter 3~

Max POV~

Walking into the room and seating myself in the warm recliner, I start off with a simple question, "So, what's your name?" what do you expect? I mean that's sorta a need to know question, when he replies with a fast and simple "Fang." I think how it weirdly fits him, with the dark hair, mysterious dark brown almost black eyes, and rather pointy super white canine like teeth.

Onto the next question, "How old are you?" I figured it was a good question… again with a simple "Twenty-one." Okay, same age. Cool. Onto the hard questions now….like how he got wings, where he came from, and why he came to my house instead of any of the other homes near me. Does he know I have wings? We'll start with one at a time…

"Where did you get wings?" I ask, he seems sort of hesitant, like he isn't sure if he should tell me or leave me in the dark. I'm starting to think he doesn't know I have wings. But maybe he'll surprise me. In a deep voice he tells me his answer to the rather 'to odd to be true' question, "Illegal genetic manipulative scientists, they warp human DNA during the second week of pregnancy, the mother goes to the regular check-up they lie and say the baby is having supplement issues and give her a shot, she usually goes through a flu/morning sickness faze but it soon clears up after a three to five day intoxication, by that time the baby has morphed into some sort of human-hybrid. Non-curable animal DNA of any type has been added to the child's blood stream.

Sometimes the baby is raised in a test tube. The egg and sperm are usually donated to the 'School' to be tested and genetically altered. Sometimes they use avian DNA or even feline DNA. The two successful projects at the School during this time are the lupine-hybrids known as Erasers, and the avian-hybrids like me and some others." Finishing off he looks at the bedding in an embarrassed and rather disgusted with him and the 'School'.

Well that's a lot to take in I must say. I guess that answers the where he came from question too. Onto the next question, "How many other people are there with wings? And where are they?" this time he tells me the answer like it's urgent and can't possible wait, "There are six of us. Including you and I, and they need your help. I broke out to come find you and tell you and we have to leave soon. Angel is sick and they aren't treating her she needs to me rescued." So he does know about my wings…..but why do I have to help them? Guess that's my next question, "Why do I need to help you?" "Because you're Maximum Ride, daughter of Jeb the head scientist at The School, and told to be the one to save the world from destruction, you just don't know it yet," Well, I guess that's a good answer. Good to know my 'dad' was the one that turned me into a mutant freak with wings. Wouldn't have wanted any other man to be my father, please note the dripping sarcasm. "Where is the School and how fast do you heal?" Hey I figure if this girl is sick we better be leaving soon. Plus I want to meet these other avian-hybrids. "I should be completely healed in a days time. My wings will be sore and I won't be capable of flying long or fast distances. It's about a three day flight from here without me injured but since I am it'll be about a five day flight; there will be Erasers so we'll have to be careful. That's how I got beat up so bad. There must have been around 100 at the most. So you'll have to know how to fight pretty well," he says. I can deal with that. "I've taken kickboxing since I was eighteen. So I can fight pretty well, the fact it'll take us two days extra because of your injuries we should let you heal an extra day without flying."

Just then the doorbell rings. I go to retrieve the pizza and pay the delivery boy. I'll just tell you this, it smells amazing. Walking back into the guest room I see Fang getting dressed asking him why he isn't staying in bed he tells me he wants to eat at an actual table, not the bed. Fine with me as long as he doesn't hurt himself anymore so we have to be delayed another day. Leaving to go put the four huge pizza boxes on the dinning room table and getting two cans of Coke from the fridge, I also get us ranch sauce to dip our pizza in because it's amazing that way.

As Fang walks into the kitchen/dinning room he soaks in his surrounds while sitting at the table, I look at all the scars and fresh cuts he has all along his arms and I also notice what looks like a hell of a lot of puncture wounds, almost as if he was stabbed with needles repeatedly. He's also very sickly pale. Like he has never once been in the sun. Where was he kept? In a basement with absolutely no windows, the only light all his like was the bright fluorescent lights that are too much like a hospital for anyone's liking?

Maybe instead of just genetically mutating children they actually abuse and run millions of illegal tests, injecting chemicals that no normal human could ever live through, but the ones with animal DNA can handle things like chlorine, bleach, and other sick, disgusting chemicals thrown into their blood streams. Just thinking about it makes me sick and not hungry, even through I have hot pizza sitting right in front of me.

I figure I'll let it slide and ask Fang about his appearance after we eat. Hoping that my thoughts haven't run away from me and that everything I'm thinking isn't true, I start to eat my food and slowly forget about the disgusting images still in my head. They seem so real it's almost as if I have been there and through it. I just home my imagination is getting the best of me and I'm just assuming the worst.

Soon both me and Fang are done with our pizzas and I figure I'll get the chocolate chip cookies I have from the other day that my mom made for desert. Afterwards I'll ask Fang about how he and the other mutants are treated at the School. Hoping I get better answers than the ones in my imagination, little do I know that my imagination is so realistic it will make me turn into a world saving Avian American.

**A/N: Yeah. I know! I SUCK. LITTERALLY SUCK. If you haven't noticed I'm late. Very late. And I'm so upset about it! And I don't even have an excuse! All I can say is that I was lazy and every time I sat in front of my laptop to start the chapter I couldn't think of anything good and worthy of writing! So in return for you being patient readers even when I'm terrible for being late, I will be updating possible two times tomorrow also! You in total will have three (including this one) chapters before this coming Monday. Be happy.**

**Because I love you. Because you reviewed. And are amazing. **

**IF I DID NOT WRITE YOU BACK AFTER YOU REVIEWE, I AM DEEPLY SORRY.**

But anyways **REVIEW**. It'll make me more focused and determined to write you a chapter on time!

~Pye

P.S. My little sister who reads this FF found like tons of typos…..I'm sorry. I usually update at like 2AM so I don't have the best vocabulary….I'll try harder.


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